


Its The Thought That Counts-13 Gifts for 13 Dwarves

by BurglarFerret



Category: The Hobbit-Movie
Genre: Gen, Presents for everybody!, Rated Teen because I'm paranoid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurglarFerret/pseuds/BurglarFerret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kink_meme<br/>The company has rested after their lives hung in the balance for the umpteenth time. Dwarves, ever caring of each other, are really somber after everything they go through.<br/>Bilbo decides to either obtain or create a gift for all of them. And it seems such a small gift to do. Either a comb for hair, or beads for braids, or new platings of armor. Bilbo is just worried that his gift won't be too functional.<br/>He doesn't realize that his gifts and the method he delivered them are the most meaningful in Dwarven culture. IT IS NOT COURTING, but it is something usually meant for immediate family. It means you respect them, adore them, love them, and will die for them because they are a part of you. Of course, the group is taken aback, shocked that their burglar would feel so much for them. Emotional, happy, whatever reaction you want.<br/>When Gandalf takes Bilbo aside to inform him of what he has done and conveyed, Bilbo becomes happy, for now he knows he made the perfect gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Ur Family-Bombur

**Author's Note:**

> Work In Progress, so it might take a while.   
> No sexytimes, at least not in this writing. Although there may be allusions.   
> Takes places in the Happily Ever After-Nobody Dies in the Battle of 5 Armies 'Verse.   
> Un beta-ed, so mistakes are mine.   
> Written for fun and fluff.

There really was no reason for it. Well, acutally, mayhaps there was. Bilbo just wasn't quite sure what the reason was. "Thank-you-for-putting-up-with-me" gifts? "I-am-so-very-glad-we're-all-alive" gifts? "Please-no-more-adventures-for-a-very-long-time-thank-you" gifts? He wasn't quite sure what the emotion was, but he was very certain he wanted to convey it. And since he couldn't properly articulate what it was he wanted to say in words, he decided gifts were in order.

Bombur's was actually the easiest, if a little time consuming. He and the portly dwarf had spent many a mile talking of stews and pastries and meats and all number of foods. Recipies, then, would be just perfect. But not just any recipies. Hobbit recipies. Some with secrets jealously guarded for generations. Strudle so light and flaky it would near float on air. Braised beef so tender it could be cut with a spoon. Stews that would feed an entire army. An entire Dwarvish army. His mother Belladonna's recipe for Nine Grain Harvest Bread was included. So was the Old Took's recipe for Roasted Wild Boar with Herbs. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins's Twice Iced Cinnamon Buns (the recipe for which Bilbo demanded specifically after he'd won a wager). Preserves, jams, jellies, butters and spreads. Tarts and scones and cakes and pies. And ales. _All_ the ales. Every last recpie he could recall (which was a great many indeed, since he did a great deal of cooking) was neatly copied down onto sturdy parchment cards in lampblack ink mixed with a bit of ox gall for permanance. If Bombur was anything like Bilbo in his cooking, spills would inevitably happen and the card would end up drenched in cream or water or some other liquid. Because he knew Dwarves loved company as well as eating, Bilbo included scaled-up versions of all the instructions. "For one." "For Four." "For a Company." Substitutions were written in; this herb instead of that one would produce a milder, sweeter flavor or using lard instead of butter would give a different texture to the crust. Bilbo spent many hours of his evenings meticulously writing out the measurements and instructions. He sorted the cards neatly into categories. Meats: Lamb, Venison, Pork, Poultry/Fowl, Beef, Fish. Breads: Rolls, Loaves, Twists. Beverages: Ales, Beers, Wines, Ciders. And so forth.

Finally, after he'd emptied his brain of every single thing he knew about food preparation, he sat back and surveyed his handiwork. Stacks and stacks of cards; a Hobbit version of a treasure trove. With a smile, he neatly put them in order and stowed them in a wooden box he'd purchased specifically for the purpose. It was a little too large, but that was all right. That meant there was room to add more. With a nod of approval, he put the box on a shelf. Finished with one, two more to go in this set.


	2. The Ur Family-Bofur (pt.1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur's Gift-probably a two parter.

Bofur's gift was just as easy as Bombur's, at least in terms of thinking of it. Bilbo wasn't sure where, but somewhere along the line, the dwarf had lost his pipe. Oh, he had found another one soon enough. A short, stumpy, mannish thing with none of the grace of his previous one. It looked so very wrong to Bilbo's eyes, like a short Dwalin or an untidy Dori. It simply wouldn't do. So Bilbo set about making him a new one. 

He decided to carve the stem first. It would be longish, with a slight downward swoop that flared ever so slightly at the end where it would join to the shank. He found a lovely piece of horn, blonde with very fine lines like wood grain, at the market as well as a light colored block of wood with a great swirling bird's eye on one side for the bowl. 

Bilbo was no great shakes at weaving of cloth. He had no knowledge of smithing beyond that the metal had to be made very hot and the hammers were very large. But carving...he believed he could say he had some degree of skill in carving. More than a little, in fact. He'd learned the craft from the Old Took himself, and he was widely regarded as a master throughout the entire Shire. Sadly, all of his carving knives and files and other tools were back in Bag End. While he had sent a letter by raven to Thorin's sister Dis requesting that the Dwarven contingent coming to Erebor stop in Hobbiton to retrieve a few things (his tools among them), he did not think he had better wait for them to arrive. But finding tools among the friendly Iron Hills dwarves was easily enough done. He supposed that might be in some part, at least, to his being Thorin's Burglar. But he liked to think it might also be because he showed a knowledge and respect for their tools and the craft to which they belonged. At any rate, he soon had a fair assemblage of knives, drills, files, various grits and emerys.

He began by drilling the air passage through the piece of horn. Since there was no such thing as a tool that would drill a curved channel, he drilled first upwards from the bottom of the piece: the part that would connect to the shank of the pipe. He went very slowly and applied little force; horn was tough but if he pushed too hard or turned the drill to fast it would spit and crack. Once he reached the proper length, he turned the piece around and drilled a second passage from the other end: the mouthpiece end. He had to stop and check several times as he neared finishing; he didn't want to overshoot the first drilling and end up with a pipe that drew air badly. Luckily, his judgement was good and when he put it in his mouth and sucked-testing the feel of it-it produced a fine, deep draw. A finger over the end stopped the air flow and satisfied him that there were no splits or cracks in the wall of the piece. Yet. He still had to carve it down to its final shape. Well then. No time like the present. He picked up one of the dwarvish carving tools-a fine bladed thing with a nice short handle-and set to work. 

Bilbo soon discovered that mithril was far superior to steel in terms of sharpness. Flakes and curls of horn fell away and piled up on his working table and the blade didn't seem to dull at all. Not to mention that he didn't have to cut so hard into the piece, which allowed him to slice off smaller bits and thereby allowed him to do finer work. Things moved along quicker to; he didn't have to stop and sharpen the blade every so often. When he had it shaped properly, he set to work with the files and grits, working away all the tool marks and leaving nothing but even smoothness. Switching over to the emerys, he polished it still further, bringing a soft glow to the piece. With the stem half done, he set to work on the shank.


	3. Bofur's Gift.  Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand! I got rather scared of this one and kinda backed away from it for a long while, but it seems that people do indeed like it and want it to continue. So, since I've been there and it makes me sad when a good story is abandoned, I've decided to hook up the zappy thing and see if I can't jolt it back to life.  
> You guys are the best. Thank you SO much. :)

Carving the shank of the pipe was going to be only a bit different than carving the stem. The wood was not as fragile or brittle as the horn, but it still required a careful hand. He did not want to slip and slash a gouge into the lovely grain. But first, as in with the stem, he would drill the air passage. Then he would carve the shape of the shank and bowl around it. He drew out a rough design on the wood block so he would have an idea how long the shank would be to reach the bottom of the bowl. This way, he would know how long of a drill bit he would need in order to bore a properly long air passage. Once he had the design drawn out, he set to work with the tools. As before, he worked slowly and carefully, not forcing the drill bit. When he had bored to the correct length (he'd marked on the bit how far he would have to go) he put down the drill and picked up a carving knife.  


He set to work roughing out the shape for the bowl. The one on Bofur's old pipe had been conical-wide at the top and tapered at the bottom. It had also been fairly large; the dwarf liked to have a good long smoke. He briefly thought about carving designs into it, but decided to leave it plain. Bofur's old one had been unadorned so Bilbo would make this one the same. Besides, Bofur was an unpretentious dwarf, and a plain, ordinary pipe seemed to suit him best. Bilbo stroked the sharp edge of the knife along the shank, peeling off a thin ribbon of wood. It was soothing work, really. Helped along by the fact that these mithril tools were wonderously sharp.  


It did not take terribly long to carve out the shank and bowl. Once again, he smoothed the piece with files and sanding, then finishing it with emerys. Then he set about hollowing out the bowl, drilling himself a starter hole and then enlarging it by carving it out with a fine knife. Again, the sharpness of the blade was of great help; there was less chance of applying too much force and breaking the walls of the bowl while working on it. He would have to pay close attention to the meeting of the air passage and the bottom of the bowl; if he missed his guess and the bore met the bowl through the side instead of the bottom, the pipe would not draw air properly and he would be starting over. However, his intuition was good and he soon found himself looking at the bore hole in the very bottom of the bowl. Very good, he'd placed it in just the right spot. He set about widening the inside of the bowl further, always careful not to apply too much pressure and tipping out the shavings very often. When he was satisfied with the width of it (narrowing towards the bottom, following the taper of the outside of the bowl) he set about sanding it as well.  


Carving the mortise and tenon joint to join the shank and the stem would likely be the hardest part of the whole business. It would have to be an exact fit; too long and there would be a gap between the shank and stem through which smoke would escape. Not to mention it would be unbearably ugly. Too short, and there would be space inside the joint for the smoke to collect and moisture to condense which would produce a soggy smoke. Equally dreadful. Bilbo set the project aside for a bit; his hands were growing stiff from holding the various tools for long stretches at a time. He would need to be at his best if he wanted to do this properly, so he would go for a bit of a walk and come back later.


	4. Bofur's Gift-Part 3

Bilbo returned to his project a bit later than he had intended to, but his reasons were good. Thorin's sister, Dis, had arrived. That in itself was reason enough to halt his craft-making, but she had brought with her a few things from Bag End. The Dwarven pony train that she had led here passed right by Hobbiton, and he had sent a letter by raven some weeks ago asking her to retrive some personal effects if it wasn't too much of a bother. Her reply, written in a strong flowing script similar to Thorin's, had made him smile: "We would uproot your entire house and bring it to the Mountain to reassemble, brick by brick, if you were to ask. Anything for my brother's Burglar." Well, he didn't want Bag End brought all the way here. He rather thought it might be useful as a way-stop on the road between the Blue Mountains and Erebor, since the Dwarves would be doing a fair bit of travelling between the two settlements now. He might send word later on to have one of his Took cousins mind it for him. But for now, he had a few of his things to make his chambers feel a bit more like home. His patchwork dressing gown, a few favorite books, his clarinet (he might take Bofur up on that offer to sing for him someday) and a few other odds and ends he could not find here. But the important things were those that were intended for his friends. Among them, a goodly supply of Old Toby and Longbottom Leaf. Bofur had taken a liking to the Shire leaf, and Bilbo had shared his supply liberally on their journey. But even such fine specimens as those could not be properly enjoyed without a good pipe. So Bilbo lit a pair of lamps (he wanted plenty of light to work by) and set to work finishing Bofur's gift.  


Carving the mortise and tenon joint to join the two halves of the pipe together was going to be time consuming and delicate. There could be no margin of error-every corner would have to line up exactly with its counterpart. The fit would have to be snug to keep moisture out and to ensure a good draw. If it leaked air, why, it was like trying to draw up water through a leaky straw-no good at all. He laid the knife against the wood and gently drew it down the piece. A single curl twined its way upward before falling away to the floor. Bilbo smiled. Mithril tools were indeed a fine thing.  


It took him nearly all of two hours to carve the joint to perfection. One flake of wood at a time, bit by bit. The final few hairsbreadths were sanded away with a very fine file. He joined the two pieces together and gave it an experimental suck. A fine, deep draw-no whistling that betrayed any cracks or slips. The draw was not tight- he didn't have to inhale hard like he'd just been running from wargs. This pipe would produce a wonderful, easy smoke. He took it from his mouth and gave it a quick wipe with a cloth. Now for the easy part. Finishing, waxing and polishing.  


Bilbo fetched the very finest grit emery he'd been able to obtain, sat back down at his table and went to work. He'd all ready sanded the pipe more than once, but giving it a final going over with the fine grit would render the surface as smooth as glass. He smiled as he worked-the finishing touches were always his very favorite part of his projects. They always brought out the character and beauty of whatever he was working on. In this case a good, deep waxing would definetly highlight the fine grain of the wood and horn materials he'd chosen for the pipe. He laid aside his emery and ran his thumb over the bowl. Smooth and cool as a gemstone. With a nod to himself, he picked up the tin of carnauba wax and a soft cloth.


	5. The Ur Family-Bifur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its Bifur's turn! I had a little bit of trouble thinking this up, but I think it worked out all right. Its a little short as well...but there's not a great amount of detail I can go into without turning it into a giant list.

Bifur was the last of the trio. The dwarf was a bit...odd...by Bilbo's standards. Not "odd" in a mentally slow way (like that poor Proudfoot fellow back in the Shire) but rather "odd" in a not-conforming-to-standards way. While most of his companions dined on large quantities of meat and ale, Bifur seemed very content with leafy greens and other vegetables. Whereas Oin kept careful notes of which plant could be used to produce a certain elixir to cure such-and-such an ailment, and Nori's only concern for plants might be which one could be used in procuring a poison, it appeared to Bilbo that Bifur enjoyed flowers and shrubs simply for their beauty. With that in mind, he'd sent an additional letter along with his first one to Dis; this second one was little more than a note addressed to Hamfast Gamgee, a most eminent gardener. In it, Bilbo simply asked him to send along a sampling of seeds from Bilbo's garden, as well as any others Hamfast might find worthy of note or exception. And Hamfast did not disappoint. Two burlap sacks, filled to bursting with many many smaller sacks and packets containing seeds and tubers, had arrived with Bilbo's personal effects. Enough to gladden the heart of any gardener. Bilbo rubbed his hands together with a smile and got to work.

He began by sorting through everything. Flowers, herbs, leafy greens, tuber type vegetables, fruit bearing vegetables, squashes and miscellaneous plants. From there, he further sorted the seeds into smaller categories; flowers into annuals and perennials, fruit bearing vegetables into tomatoes, peppers and the like, squashes into summer, winter and pumpkins. And so forth. And finally, when that sorting had been accomplished, he sorted each category into its specific varieties. Thankfully, Hamfast had the foresight to label everything; Bilbo thought himself to be a good gardener, but he could not tell at a glance the difference between the seed of a Grand King Tomato and a Red Rocket Tomato. Bless the old fellow's heart, he'd even labelled the colors of the flowers! Once all the sorting was done, he set about making seed packets. He labelled each one with the name of the plant and a quick line drawing of what it would look like. It was a pity, he thought as he creased the parchment neatly, that he couldn't involve Ori in this. He was quite the artist. Oh well. 

He sealed each little envelope or package with a small dab of wax before setting it in a pile with its compatriots. When all were labelled, sorted, and cataloged Bilbo repurposed a handsome wicker basket to contain everything in before sitting back with a grin. There were enough seeds to cover the entire peak of the Mountain in one enormous garden.


	6. The Ri Family: Ori's GIft-Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By Durin's Hairy Back, holidays were rough this year! And hey, Santa brought me a case of the flu as well! Ick. But! I haven't abandoned this story. Took a small "heal up/get stuff in order" vacation, and am ready to work on it again!  
> This part one is a wee bit short, but I promise to update here (on this very same page) soon!  
> ETA 1/27-apparently soon is TWO WEEKS OMGWTFBBQ.....sorry guys, didn't mean for that to happen, and its so short to....:(

Ori's gift was going to require Bilbo's woodworking skills as well. He thought at first that he might like to make Ori a set of artist's colors with brushes, but he soon realized that he hadn't enough of the right kind of knowledge. He had no idea how to fix brush hairs to the shaft, or even what particular kinds of hair should be used. He decided to leave such a thing to someone with a better handle on the ins and outs of it. Instead, he decided on hardwood knitting needles. He'd made himself more than a few pairs over the years, and he was sure Ori would be glad to have a pair back in hand. Well, several pairs of them; different styles of knitting required different tools, after all.  


He got his wood from an old woodwright on the north side of Laketown. The man had a discriminating eye and good taste in logs; any that he found fault with were sent back with a scoff and a flap of gnarled hand. He milled them precisely; none of his boards showed so much as a hair of bend or warp. Bilbo wasn't particularly interested in the boards, he was after the ends and castoff scraps that were to small to be of use to the cabinetmakers that the man sold to. The pieces would not do for tabletops, but they were just the right size to make knitting needles. They were lovely colors and grains as well-golden blonde oak with its wavy lines, dark walnut straight as an arrow, warm cherry wood with its slightly red hue, and maple so pale it was nearly white. He collected all of these and more, finally going back to the mountain with an armload of pieces.  


The first thing he had to do was to match them all into pairs. Some of the pieces came from the same end of the same board, and so were all ready paired. Some, however, were singles with interesting characteristics or oddities in them: a spiraling twist in the grain or a bend near the top that would make for an interesting finial on the end. All were studied and scrutinized carefully before being matched.

The next step was to very carefully take the pieces down to size. Most of them were as big around as Bilbo's wrist; the largest of his planned needles would be about as big around as his thumb. So, being very careful, he stood a piece of oak up on its end and marked out a rough sized square that he wanted to make the needle from on the top. It would be a little off center; there was a particular bird's eye knot that he wanted to include. That done, he picked up a freshly sharpened hatchet and a light hammer. Setting the edge of the hatchet on one of his lines, he gave it a sharp tap with the hammer to set it. Bending down, he could see that the wood was cleaving nicely along the grain. Another tap, and the hatchet head drove further in. He checked again; the grain was going a bit inward, but he had left a fair margin of error so it was no worry. Two more hearty taps and the wood split. Laying aside his tools, he picked the two pieces up. The edge piece he discarded; the larger one he held up to inspect. The attractive knot was very much intact, and the inner grain revealed itself to be evenly spaced and very nice. Standing the piece on end, he set the hatchet in another of his lines and began the tap-and-check process again. The second edge broke free as nicely as the first. The third and fourth were the same, and Bilbo's end result was a square, slightly tapered stick with a bulge of a knot on the top end. He nodded in a pleased manner and, laying it aside, picked up its mate. One needle down, eleven more to go. 


	7. Ori's Gift-Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the chapter. Seriously, house shopping and all that it brings can go and take a flying leap. NO spare time.

Bilbo worked slowly, yes, but it wasn't as though he was in a hurry. He would much rather take extra time and do this right rather than try and cut corners and make a mistake. It took him quite a while to get every one of the pieces split down to size, so when he was done he took time out for a bit of a snack. Nothing grand by hobbit standards, just a bit of bread and cheese. While he was nibbling, he doodled ideas for the finials on a spare bit of parchment. Of course, some of the carving work would depend on what the wood wanted to do. One could not force such a thing; it was more like making an agreement with the piece and working with the natural contours of it. The walnut would lend itself nicely to blocky, geometric designs thanks to its straight grain. The oak pair all ready had a finial in the bird's eye knot on one; the other could be worked some so there was a similar bulge on the top of its mate so they were identified as a pair. The pale maple could be filed to a point at the top, and properly colored a bit it could be made to resemble a mountain peak. And the cherry was so lovely on its own that he might only add a single stripe or two of adornment.   
Finished with his snacking and his sketching, Bilbo went back to work. He picked up the oak needle-the one with the knot- and a mithril carving knife. Laying the knife against the wood, he applied the slightest pressure and stroked downward, just like peeling a carrot. Had he been using ordinary carving tools, he would have needed to use more force, but mithril was so sharp he didn't dare, for fear of taking too much off. A single curl of wood unrolled and fell to the floor. Bilbo held the needle up to the light to inspect it; he'd pared one of the angled edges down perfectly. He relaid his knife precisely again and drew the blade down the piece. Another curl added itself to the one on the floor. Bilbo held the needle up and inspected it again. Yes. At this rate, things would progress nicely. He would keep whittling the edges down until the piece was nice and smooth, and then he would turn it over and do the other side. Then he would file and sand the shaft until it was mirror smooth. Then he would lay it aside and work on its mate. When the pair was done, he would probably stop for lunch (no working on an empty stomach!) and work on the pair's finials in the afternoon. He wanted his hands rested for the fine, delicate work that would be required for carving and polishing the knot. Then he would begin work on the next pair.   
+++++  
It was late afternoon when Bilbo finally finished up the very last pair. He laid it on the table and rolled it back and forth, checking for wobbles. There were none; the piece was straight and true as an arrow. It had taken him many hours, but the work had not been continuous. He'd taken breaks here and there, getting out and stretching his legs. It wouldn't do for him to become a hermit; his friends would come looking for him and then their surprises would be ruined. So truthfully, he had finished the sets of needles in pretty good time. And they were lovely. The heavy walnut pair with its finials carved to resemble castle towers had turned out very nice indeed. The mountain peaks on the maple needles pleased him as well; he'd managed to find just the right shade of blue-grey stain . The cherry was the most simple, just a single carved line winding around the end of the shaft, darkened a bit with the edge of a heated tool. But he was most proud of the oak set. He'd taken great care to preserve the knot at the top of the one, and he'd carefully worked a matching knob into the other one. When he'd finished carving them, he'd set about filing and polishing them down with strips of emery; not so much as a hint of a splinter could be allowed in these, else the woolen yarn would catch and unravel. All that was left was the easy part; waxing and polishing them. Smiling, Bilbo lit his pipe, picked up a tin of wax and settled into his favorite chair to finish the job.


	8. Dori's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori's turn! This one was a bit hard, actually. Hope it fits!

Dori's gift was something Bilbo could very much appreciate, fastidious hobbit that he was. Throughout their journey, even in the most dire of circumstances, Dori did his very best to take good care of his beard and hair. Every evening (as much as conditions would allow) Dori would unplait the complex braids, comb through his locks carefully, clean them (sometimes soap, when it was available. Other times, just a rinse.) and then replait the complicated arrangement. The dwarf kept his facial hair neat and trim through judicious but careful use of a mithril straight razor. Bilbo had seen him using a shaving cream during the very earliest part of their journey (they had still been travelling through the Shire, in fact) and so guessed that Dori likely made use of lotions, oils and other such things as well. (And really, why not? What with the chilly, dry air in this drafty mountain it was a wonder all their faces weren't chapped.) Bilbo had recipes for several such things-soothing creams for skin, scented oils to keep hair soft and silky (not to mention manageable!), soaps, pomades and the like. Not that he had any facial hair to contend with, but he liked to keep the hair on his feet looking nice.  


Bilbo's preparations looked similar to when he went on one of his cooking tears. He assembled all his ingredients: fragrant oils (Sandalwood was very nice, Eucalyptus for its soothing properties, chamomile (not just for tea!) for its relaxing scent), non fragrant oils (they would provide moisture rather than scent)and blocks of refined tallow (which would make up the bulk and body of the shaving cream). Bilbo measured everything carefully, melting the tallow slowly in his double boiler so as not to scorch it (what a dreadful stink that would be!) before adding the oils (just a few drops of the aromatics, else they would be overpowering) and stirring briskly to ensure that everything was well combined. That done, he poured the mixture into a large bowl and put it aside to set up.  


While the mixture was hardening, Bilbo set about making a witch hazel blend. Equal parts witch hazel (leaves and bark), elder flowers, and more eucalyptus went into a large jar and were covered in water. Bilbo gave it a good shake before setting it in a dark cool corner of his cupboard. There it would stew and steep until he was ready to present his gifts. Of course, he would strain out the soggy mess of herbs through a square of silk and pour the infused water into smaller, more attractive jars. He'd never used the concoction himself, but his great uncle (possessed of a spectacular mustache, by hobbit standards anyway) had sworn by it.  
Checking the shaving cream concoction and finding it still spongy (trying to beat it when it was anything less than solidly set would only turn it into mush) Bilbo set about making mustache and beard wax-another of his great uncle's recipes. Very simple to make, really. Equal parts beeswax and refined tallow, and the tiniest hint of sandalwood oil, just to be sure that Dori would not smell like a chandler. He blended all three ingredients in the double boiler over low heat, and then poured the liquid into jars to harden.  


Checking the shaving cream one last time, Bilbo found that it had stiffened to his liking. Picking up his sturdiest whisk, he set about beating the mixture as hard and fast as possible. It took several minutes and no small amount of exertion, but the end result was shaving cream as light and fluffy as the finest egg white meringue. Bilbo spooned it carefully into jars and twisted the lids on tightly. Matched with some chamomile soaps that had come with his things on Dis's expedition, the assemblage of personal effects would do nicely.


	9. The Ri Family-Nori's Gift Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of a chapter! Would have had this done a bit earlier, but I messed up my back some and sitting in a desk chair became kinda hard.

Nori, like his brother Dori, was proud of his hair. His hair, however, was very thick and wild and coarse, almost bordering on horsehair. Nori always wore it in that six pointed pompadour with braids tied and bundled and looped throughout. It was less...refined than Dori's arrangement, but no less complex. And more than once, Bilbo had heard Nori lament the lack of a good, sturdy comb. Apparently, the flimsy Mannish things that could be bought (or perhaps stolen) in Laketown were no match for his mane. 

Making a comb was something Bilbo had done only once, and it had been years ago. He was a little uncertain of his skill with this particular gift, and elected to carve a practice piece first. He paid a visit to his woodwright friend again, selecting two pieces of hickory each a little larger than his hand. It was a wood with an attractive grain, but it was also very durable; any comb made from hickory would have teeth as strong as iron. 

Bilbo's first task was to properly size the pieces. The dimensions were right except in width; just because he wanted them to be sturdy did not mean they had to be clunky. They would have to be sawn in half edgewise. So he put the less attractive of the two in a set of wooden clamps (three of them, since he did not want it to wiggle in the slightest), marked a straight guide line on the upturned edge, set his finest toothed saw to it, and began. Slowly, not applying a great deal of pressure (lest he rip the wood free from the clamps), he moved the saw back and forth. He stopped often to check that he was not deviating from the straight line he'd drawn out. Finally, he made it all the way through the piece. He removed the saw carefully and unscrewed the clamps, freeing the now halved wood. Next he would cut the teeth.


	10. The Ri Family-Nori's Gift Part 2

Sawing the teeth was the part of the project that made Bilbo most nervous. Strong as hickory was, a slender tooth could still be broken out by a mistimed jerk or an unfortunate twitch. Taking up one of his files, he laid it edgewise against the wood and, with a pencil, drew a line. Moving the tool just the slightest bit to the right, he repeated the process. No sense in guessing when actual measuring could be done. Then, picking up his clamps again, Bilbo secured the hickory blank to the edge of his workbench. He took up his saw and, with a calming breath, laid it against the top edge of the wood and began. As before, he applied as little pressure as possible, just enough to make the teeth of the saw blade bite. Without hurry, he followed his trace line down to its end. Carefully, he removed the saw blade from its freshly cut notch, moved it over the barest fraction of an inch, and began again. Bilbo repeated the sawing all the way down the length of the piece. The width of the blade of the saw was just perfect for the spacing between the teeth. When he was finished, he picked up a very fine, very slim file-one much slimmer than the one he had used to mark out the spacing. He wasn’t _quite_ sure how to go about finishing the teeth, particularly on the insides of them, but he thought this might do the job. The comb would have to be sanded as smooth as glass; as with Ori’s knitting needles it wouldn’t do to have splinters that would catch and pull. He soon found that the slenderness of his tool allowed him sufficient ability to angle it this way and that so as to file off all the corners and edges and hangnails that presented themselves. Pleased, he ran the polished and sanded end of the comb through his own curly locks. Not a tug, not a snag. Of course, his hair was fine and silky, so sliding through a large toothed comb was no great trick. Still, he believed he had the gist of it, so he laid aside his practice piece and picked up the one he intended to carve as Nori’s gift. 

When he had sawn the blank in half, he inspected the pieces and chose the more attractive one. He would do the decorative carving first, he decided. That way he could make the teeth shallow or deep, depending on the how the design turned out. And thanks to the peculiar way the top of the piece was shaped, he had a design in mind. Mighty mountains, four of them. A single grand peak in the foreground, flanked by two more on the right and one on the left. With a bit of skill, he would be able to oil the snowcaps with a different oil than the rest of piece and produce a lighter colored finish. Sitting down in his favorite window bench, he picked up his sharpest carving tool and set to work. Soon, under his deft hands, the mountains took shape. A slight bend in the grain became the leading edge of a glacier flowing down the dominant mountain’s left side, a slight notch in the top of the one on the very far right added character as well. When he was finished with his carving (and really, he had to stop himself from going overboard with details, lest it become to busy-looking) he laid everything aside and went to fix himself some afternoon tea so his fingers could have a rest. Sawing the teeth would be very careful work, and he didn’t want his hands to be tired. 

After his snack of chamomile tea and scones with jam, Bilbo returned to his project. As with his practice piece, he carefully marked out the teeth, fixed the hickory to the edge of his workbench with clamps and carefully began to saw. Slowly, never pushing too hard, always checking after every tooth, he worked his way down the comb. Oftentimes, he would kneel down and inspect the tops of the notches, checking to see that they were in a straight line. Finally, after what felt like a very long time (but in truth was probably not), he cut the last notch. Laying aside his saw and unfastening the clamps, Bilbo held the piece up to the light. Even in its rough, unpolished state it was very lovely indeed. Smiling, he went back to his window bench with his finest files and polishing grits. Carefully, he worked the slender tools between the teeth, sanding down the edges. When he had finished with them, he took to his grits, using them on the body of the comb, smoothing out the ridges and irregularities in the carved peaks of the mountains. When he was done with those, he used his finishing oils. He did the snowcaps first, using a light, clear oil. Hickory would never be as blonde as oak or pine, so the snow wouldn’t actually be white, but he could make the rest of the comb a bit darker and get the idea across quit well. Thanks to the small surface area, he was soon finished with them. Now for the body of the comb. Darker oil, to bring out the lovely, close grown grain of the wood. Carefully, being mindful of the edges, he started from the snowcaps and worked downward. Gently, he worked the oil into the wood, rubbing in small circles. For oiling the teeth he used a fine linen cloth, held between the thumb and third finger and the first two fingers of a hand, edge stretched tight. He moved it back and forth, almost like a flexible blade, oiling the inner edges of the teeth very effectively. Finally, satisfied with the soft sheen he had brought out in the wood, he laid the piece aside to dry and set about tidying up.


	11. The Oin family-Oin's Gift pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oin's turn!

The idea for Oin's gift came surprisingly easily to Bilbo. The dwarf had been the apothecary of the Company, and many times Bilbo had seen him tending to someone wounded or ill with a small jar of some tincture or a pot of salve in hand. He had kept all his things in a lovely little valise at the beginning of their journey, but somewhere along the line-between all the chasing and the fighting and imprisonment and the battles-it had gotten lost. Oin had replaced many of his medicines, but he now carried them around in a haversack; all the little glass bottles were carefully wrapped in bits of cloth to keep them from clinking together and possibly breaking. It was functional, but not very organized or attractive. 

Bilbo had just the solution for the problem, and it came in the form of an old sewing box that had once belonged to his mother's cousin. Not some great big thing to sit in a corner of a room; it was small, made to travel. It had a lid that opened up into two halves; each half had loops in the top of it to hold scissors, awls, large needles, and other various sewing tools. Bilbo thought they might do well to hold Oin's surgical instruments. Then there was the removable tray for holding things like thread, pincushions, buttons, and other small bits and bobs. Perfect for little vials of curatives and other small things. The greater body of the box itself, having once held yarn and spare bits of cloth could most certainly hold pots of ointment, larger bottles of medicines and the like. There was only one problem. The box was a frightfully ugly thing; his mother's cousin had painted it a garish shade of lilac and then hung lemon colored silk tassels on it. The expression on Dis's face when she had brought it through his door had been a mixture of bafflement, curiosity and distaste. 

"You are...strange, Bilbo Baggins." was all she had said. Bilbo had simply laughed and thanked her profusely.

Now he fetched it from the corner where he had stored it and set about remaking it. The first thing he did was lop off those horrid tassels and throw them in the fireplace. Good riddance. The next thing was to strip off that awful paint. To do that he would need to remove all the hardware on it: hinges, buckles, handle. The overarching brass handle came off first, having it out of the way would make it easier to work. Bilbo supposed he could have just folded it down to the side, but the leather wrap needed replaced and he planned on giving everything brass a good shining as well, so best to have it off anyway. Thankfully, the handle (along with the rest of the fittings) was fastened on with screw-back rivets; it was a simple matter of having a pair of thin knife blades to put into the grooves on either of the heads of the rivets and then carefully untwisting them. (Some of the not-so-well-made pieces he had encountered in his time had their fittings fastened on with tacks or nails. Thankfully that was not the case with the sewing box, else the process would have been far more difficult and possibly destructive.) One by one, he unscrewed the rivets; always he joined the two halves back together before placing them in a small jar with their respective piece. He was also careful to make a note as to which particular fitting went in which spot on the box. They might be interchangeable, but to do it properly, each piece should go back exactly where it had been before.


	12. Oin's Gift Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long stretches between updates! Weather's turning nice and still house hunting, so being outdoors takes up a chunk of spare time. But fear not, I have not forgotten this story. It just takes me longer to get to doing it than I want to, it seems. Bah. Why can't it be January all the time and I can feel okay about sitting indoors all day?

Once all the hardware had been removed and placed in an out-of-the-way spot (he would feel very silly indeed if all his sorting came to naught because he knocked over a couple of jars) Bilbo fetched his sanding paper. Heavy, coarse stuff to take the majority of the paint off, and finer grit for smoothing and polishing the wood underneath. He began with one of the top flaps; he sat down at his workbench and began to scrub at the ugly paint vigorously. Soon, he had removed a fair sized patch and revealed a surprise as well. The wood underneath was not plain; there were alternating bands of light and dark, each about as wide as two fingers. Curious, Bilbo laid aside the sandpaper and held the piece up to his face to better inspect it. Wood veneer, carefully cut, pieced, and placed, had been glued over a sturdy base wood to produce a striking pattern. The dark stripes appeared to be walnut, judging by the straight grain, and the light ones ash. Looking closer and squinting, he marveled at the perfection of the joining at the corners; each angle lined up exactly to its neighbor. There were no gaps in between the strips where the base wood might show through either. Shaking his head, Bilbo picked his sandpaper back up and continued scrubbing. How his mother's barmy relative had seen fit to cover such magnificent craftsmanship with such horrible paint was beyond him. 

Some hours later (with a few breaks for elevenses and lunch) Bilbo had rid the box of every last speck of lavender. The sides of the box proved to be lovely grained walnut under the dreadful paint. With the paint was gone, Bilbo set about sanding and smoothing the wood. The heavy gritted sandpaper he had used for removing the paint had left scratches in places, and that simply wouldn't do. He carefully buffed them out with a very fine grit paper, stopping often to blow away the dust so he could see the results of his work. When he was satisfied that he had obliterated every nick, he fetched a jug of linseed oil and a rag. The oil would darken the walnut to a lovely chocolate color and the ash would mellow to a yellow gold. Once done with the oiling (a simple process, really. Just rubbing the liquid in with a rag.) he could lay the pieces aside so the oil could absorb and cure-with the occasional once over to blot off any excess oil and keep the dust away. The little wooden set-in tray would get the same treatment; thankfully it hadn't been painted so there was no need to dismantle it. Then he could turn to the matter of polishing up the brass hardware. He most certainly had some brass polish in with his candlesticks that would put a lovely soft glow onto the pieces. Then best to put them back in their jars and put the jars with the box itself; he could not actually reassemble it until the linseed oil had fully cured in a few days. But as for the rest of the process...Bilbo rubbed his hands together happily.  
"I shall be done in time for afternoon tea." he said.


	13. Gloin's Gift-Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Update! Quick, check the skies for flying hogs! See if Satan is wearing a parka! Hee. Seriously, house hunting (and buying!) is a chore I am happy to be done with. But! Now comes PACKING THE BOXES! And this evening, I decided I was TIRED of all the boxes, and then I realized I owed all of you wonderful people an update! I am so VERY SORRY for the lateness of this (I meant to do one in June, I really did) and it's a short one as well. With any luck, I will get sick of boxes again, and have another update for the end of the month/first part of August.   
> Love you all!

The idea for Gloin's gift had actually come to Bilbo as he was taking one of his walks through the Mountain's halls. (He didn't spend all of his free time working on his friends' presents-he couldn't, really, else they'd become curious and come looking for him.). That particular day he had stopped to see Ori and had found the young Dwarf working on a set of portraits. One Bilbo had recognized immediately as Gloin, the other two Ori had explained as his wife and his young son Gimli. "They're to go in the front room of his quarters." he had said. Bilbo had nodded; portraits of his parents and other relatives hung in his front parlor as well. 

"They're quite large." Bilbo had remarked. 

"Six handspan wide and ten handspan tall." Ori had said with a nod. "Gloin is going easy on me; having them so large makes it easier to get all the little details right." And indeed, Ori's talent had shown, even in the unfinished state the portraits were in. The ringlets in Gloin's wife's beard were lush and full, and the patterned stitching in little Gimli's vest stood out beautifully. Bilbo had made careful note of the dimensions that Ori had mentioned, and when he had returned to his quarters, he had written them down and put them safely away for future reference. 

Bilbo now fetched the little scrap of paper he'd written his notes on and paid a visit to the woodwright. The man nodded thoughtfully as Bilbo explained his project to him. He intended to use wood that was quarter sawn instead of the more typical flat sawn; boards finished in the quarter sawn manner displayed beautiful ribbon rays that ran across the straight vertical grain. He would need three sets of four boards; three picture frames of four sides each. Cherry, if enough could be found. The wood's red coloration would match Gimli's family's red hair just so. 

"Aye." said the woodwright. "Enough can be found. Been a lot of destruction as of late; many a tree's been uprooted or smashed. But it does warm my heart to see some good coming from out of the ruin." With a wave of his hand, he indicated Bilbo should follow him. "Come and select your wood, my friend. We will saw the long boards into pieces here so you don't accidentally spear something on your way back to the Mountain."


	14. Gloin's Gift-pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live errybody! Ohmaigawd life from the past two months can go jump in a lake. Sister had a baby, dad in the hospital with a serious neck injury. Heavier load at work, still unpacking from the move. But! Things are starting to settle down, and I hope to be able to get back into this again! So very sorry for the lateness, and ten thousand thanks to everyone hanging tough with me. <3

Bilbo happily trotted back to his quarters in the Mountain, his prizes wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. His woodwright friend had allowed him free choice of his stores and he had found a matching set of lovely red-bronze boards.

"From the same tree, they are." the man had said. "Appropriate for a close knit family." Bilbo had agreed, and that had been that. 

Laying the bundles on his workbench, he lit a pair of lanterns so he would have good light to work by. Then he unwrapped the boards and set about studying them. He would need to saw the ends of the boards at an angle to make the frames, and he wanted the ribbon rays and grain lines to be aligned in as pleasing a manner as possible. He laid the first set out and eyed it critically before picking up one of the boards and turning it around. No, that wasn't quite right. He flipped it over...yes, that was better. Satisfied with the laying out of the frame, he set about measuring the inner edges; six handspan wide by ten handspan tall. Once he had marked off the lengths with a pencil, he set about lining up the angles (forty five degrees exactly) for the corners. Once those were drawn, he fetched his miter box (must keep those angles straight!) and fine toothed saw. He laid one of the boards in the box, lined up the pencil mark with the angle grooves, placed the saw, and began. Equal, even pressure on both pull and push strokes. Not too fast. After several moments' work, he'd sawn all the way through the board. Picking it up, he thumbed the edge. Just the tiniest bit rough, but a sanding would take care of that. So, one down, seven to go for this frame. Laying the next board in the box and lining up in the proper groove, he picked up the saw and got back to it. 

Some time later, he laid aside his saw and, placing the last board in place, leaned forward to admire his work. The angles were very precise; the edges would scarcely need filing to make them fit flush against one another. The pieces themselves were well matched in color and grain. The rays, so highly prized in the quarter sawn wood, lined up beautifully. "Lovely." Bilbo murmured to himself. "Just lovely." And speaking of lovely, it was time for tea. He had some lovely cinnamon buns from breakfast that would go very well with his afternoon cuppa before coming back and going after the other two frames.


	15. Balin's Gift Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten about this fic! I swear! Now that the moving and the new job promotion and the holidays are over with, I hope to be able to get back at it. >hugs any and all readers that are still hanging in there

Bilbo had been stumped for ideas for a gift for Balin for a long time. That might have been part of the reason why he had worked on so many of the other dwarves' presents first. But inspiration had come to him one day when he had stopped to say hello to the dwarf in one of the many halls and Balin had happened to ask to borrow his quill.  


"I broke the one I was using a bit back." he had said, gesturing down the hall as Bilbo handed his over. Balin had scribbled down a few sentences of notation and returned it to him with a bow. "What with all the repairing and rebuilding going on, small things like writing instruments tend to get overlooked. I suppose I shall have to pay a visit to young Ori later on and see if he will let me have half a dozen of the ones that he's stocked."  


"I'm sure he will." Bilbo had said. Balin had nodded with a bit of a smile.  


"Aye." he had said. "I'm very fortunate the lad is so generous. And that he's got such a light artist's tough, else he'd be going though them as fast as I do."  


"Sorry?" Bilbo had questioned. An idea had begun to form in his mind, but he wanted to be sure he was understanding properly.  


"Young Ori has a much finer, lighter hand than I do." Balin had said, "what with his using brushes for painting. That carries over to everyday writing with quills. He can make use the fragile Dale-made quills quite well. As for myself," Balin smiled a tad ruefully, "my writing hand is a fair bit heavier, and try as I might to be gentle, I usually end up breaking quills far more quickly than I would like." Bilbo had nodded and said something about good quills being hard to find indeed, and they had parted ways. Balin to pay a visit to Ori, and Bilbo with an idea.  


+++ 

He had carried the thought in his head for a few days, pondering over how to best go through with it. But he simply did not have the knowledge required. However, he knew a certain grey wizard who did. Which was why he was currently deep in conversation with Gandalf.  


"Do they...do they think as we do? Can they..understand?" he asked. Gandalf nodded, exhaling smoke from his nose.  


"They most certainly can." he said, removing his pipe. "Eagles are every bit as intelligent as you or I. Their thoughts probably tend more towards eagle related matters-wind and trees and hunting and such things-but I can promise you they are not simple minded." He paused to take another puff on his pipe and continued, "If you study their language for long enough, as some elves have, you can even converse with them. Although you have to learn to speak their language as their tongues and beaks cannot form our words." Bilbo digested this for a moment. It certainly made the idea of communication easier, but the idea of even approaching one of the massive birds filled him with trepidation.  


"So is this sort of thing even heard of?" he finally asked the wizard. "Is it even allowed?"  


"I will admit it might seem a little unusual," Gandalf said, "but I know of no reason why it should be forbidden."  


"So....what would be the best way to go about it then?" Bilbo asked. Gandalf looked over at him from under his great floppy hat and smiled.  


"The same way you went about asking me." he said. "Explain what you are asking and why. Be respectful. And, whatever the answer, don't badger."  


"But...how will I know if I've been told yes or no if they can't speak?" Bilbo asked. He was quite sure that saying 'I'm sorry but I can't understand your hisses, could you please say that again?" several times would most certainly be considered badgering.  


"Oh you will know." said Gandalf. "Eagles have a way of making sure they are understood, even without words."


End file.
